


Otherwise You'll Have To Stay

by GretchenSinister



Series: My Top 20 Short Gen Fics [14]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen, ghost story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-09 22:38:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18926377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister
Summary: Original Prompt: "Jack doesn’t know why his sister cries so much, or why his parents have stopped smiling, or why his friends (the Guardians and Jamie) look so, so sad.And then he finds it out.He’s been dead since last winter.Basically I want Jack watching his loved ones grieve, not knowing why, and then realizing or remembering that he died a year ago, and the tears are for him.I want it to hurt, anons. Make me a sobbing wreck."I changed the premise so that Jack has died very recently, because I feel like going from a loving situation among family and friends to one where NO ONE talks to you would signal that something was up far before a year went by.Someone does show up to talk to Jack here, though they can only say one thing.Observe then, if you will, the revenant of Jack Frost. (Cause of death: bacterial meningitis caught too late. Mental confusion not recognized as bacterially-caused thanks to the concussion received when disastrously face-planting on ice. This also broke his nose and caused enough trauma for nasal bacteria to get to his brain. It’s not story-relevant but I really wanted to explain.)





	Otherwise You'll Have To Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on 10/7/2015.

This should be easy to figure out, Jack thinks. He knows there’s something obvious he’s missing, something weirdly familiar about all this. Like he’s watching a movie of his own life after forgetting he acted in it. But it’s hard. His thoughts seem pretty fogged up. He knows they’ve been like that for…for a while now. Since he hit his head on the ice. He thinks he remembers someone saying that a concussion from rock solid ice was better than falling through it and drowning, but who was it? It must have been a doctor. Since he can’t remember, maybe they were wrong.  
  
But had it been just the concussion? Jack thinks he remembers his neck being really stiff. Was it from sleeping in weird positions because of his broken nose? He has the vague feeling it was more than that. Someone had been worried. The doctor? Him?  
  
He must be getting better, though. His neck’s not stiff anymore, and his parents, even though they haven’t looked happy in Jack’s recent memory, have taken all the bottles of medicine out of his room.  
  
Maybe he shouldn’t be trying so hard to figure things out, now. Maybe he should just be resting and waiting for his brain to clear. It would be absurd to think that his parents haven’t spoken to him in…days, it must be days. It would be absurd to assume that Emma hasn’t—well, other than when she stands at the door of his room when he’s in there and just says “Jack?” but doesn’t try to start a conversation. There’s something troubling her, Jack can tell, but he hasn’t hit on the right way to ask before she just walks away sadly.  
  
Christmas break is over, and no one else is in the house now, so his mom and dad both must have felt that it was safe to leave Jack on his own, even if he’s not ready to go back to school yet. He can’t remember the last time he ate and he figures he can heat up a can of soup safely, even with his fogged brain, and so he heads down to the kitchen. As he passes through the living room, he notices there’s a weird amount of flowers in there. There are even more on the kitchen counters. He can easily imagine his mom buying one bouquet to stave off the winter blues, but this? Arrangement after arrangement clutter the coffee table, and even a few wreaths lean against the walls. The flowers remind him of…of something. He shrugs. Maybe he’ll think of it as he waits for the soup to heat up.  
  
He walks by the kitchen table, and happens to glance down and see that there are a bunch of cards piled up at his place. Get well cards? From today? Otherwise his mom would have told him about them by now, right? Even if he doesn’t remember talking to her recently. He looks down and starts to read.  
  
 _Our deepest sympa…_  
  
***  
  
Jack yawns. How’d he get in his room again? Well, he must have made some soup, right? That’s what he was going to do, and now that he’s here he doesn’t feel hungry, so he must have made it and eaten it. So, success.  
  
There’s still a worry in the back of his mind like he’s forgetting something really important, something really specific.  
  
Maybe he left the burner on. That’s probably it. He’d better go check.  
  
He turns to leave and swears loudly. In the door to his room stands a tall, thin man, dressed all in black, with gray hands and a gray face, and eyes that glitter from cavelike sockets. His forehead reaches the doorframe, and for a wild moment Jack clings to the wild hope that this will keep him out.  
  
The man steps through the doorway without even ducking, as if the wood, or he, is no more substantial than smoke.  
  
Jack scrambles back, tripping over his hockey bag, and falls to the floor with a thud. This is bad, this is really bad, this is impossible—wait. A concussion, an impossible terrifying shadow man—maybe he’s hallucinating. He needs to write this down, so he doesn’t forget it for his next doctor’s appointment, so he can tell his parents, and maybe he’ll manage to remember that conversation, maybe—  
  
“You need to figure it out before the full moon, otherwise you’ll have to stay here,” the shadow man says.  
  
“What? What are—who says?”  
  
The shadow man smiles without humor. “If I knew that, do you think I’d still be hanging around? I’ve given you all the warning I can give. So figure it out, or you’ll have to stay.”  
  
Jack realizes that he’s shivering uncontrollably. “Figure out what? I—what’s wrong with me? I thought I was getting better but now I’m having hallucinations and…”  
  
“You need to figure out exactly what your situation is and admit it to yourself. That’s all I can say,” the shadow man says. “If you fail, we can talk more.”  
  
Before Jack can say anything else, he backs away and around the corner, and when Jack manages to walk on shaky legs into the hallway, he’s gone.  
  
“Figure it out,” he mutters to himself. “Figure out my situation? I’m just…sick.”  
  
He doesn’t find the can for the soup he thinks he ate in the trash. He does find a few popped “Get well soon!” balloons.  
  
He doesn’t read any of the cards on the table. He does check to see how far away the full moon is. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments from Tumblr:
> 
> bowlingforgerbils said: this is my kind of ghost story. I love it!


End file.
